


The Prep

by ChromeHoplite



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blowjobs, College student Ciel, College student Sebastian, Dubcon fantasies, LSAT prep exams, M/M, Public Sex, bottom!Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromeHoplite/pseuds/ChromeHoplite
Summary: What's more important than preparing for an exam that might determine your future?Fucking the competition.





	The Prep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salems_luc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salems_luc/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to Writing Royalty!  
> My Dude- Thank you for sharing your writing and artistic talents with the fandom! It wouldn't be the same without you! xoxox

_That fucking bastard_ , Ciel hisses to himself under his breath as he walks into the exam hall and seats himself near the back of the room, behind where Sebastian Michaelis is talking to some smarmy-looking preppy-type. 

He rolls his eyes and makes a sound of disgust, top lip curling as he looks him over. Stupid face. Dumb perfect jaw. Silk-ebony hair styled in the most ridiculous way possible. _That’s right, asshole, tuck that piece behind your ear,_ he thinks, watching Sebastian predictably push his hair out of his eyes. Even his internal voice is closer to a growl than words. 

He’s known Michaelis since his senior year of high school and was never noticed by the popular boy. He was happy to see the back of him when he’d stepped off the stage and graduated top of their class, _Magna cum laude_. He’d been even more relieved when it had been rumoured that he was going abroad to study philosophy -- ha! What the hell could you do with a philosophy degree?! Not be here at 8 a.m. waiting to write a practice LSAT; there must be some kind of mistake, Sebastian Michaelis was not made for law school. Sure he was smart, but he was better suited for the runway. Maybe a bartender? Captain of whatever sports team he was playing now...

“Take your seats, we’ll begin in a minute,” some old guy drawls at the front of the class. Ciel takes out his HB pencil and waits for Michaelis to leave. Instead, he sits one row over and two desks ahead of him. _Fucker! What are you doing? The exit is **that** way!_ , he screams inside his head. 

The sound of paper fluttering onto individual desks could be heard, as well as the nervous shifting in chairs, but Ciel is still as a statue, back ramrod straight, seething as he stares daggers at Sebastian. 

“You have two hours; you may begin,” the test administrator says, his voice familiar to that of Charlie Brown’s teacher. 

He reads the first question, _Which of the following CANNOT be true?_ Four predictable answers are given but all he can think is, _that HE’s here_. And he drills holes at the back of Sebastian’s head for three minutes as he’s biting the eraser on his pencil. _Only so many spots at Harvard Law, and now I’m competing against **him**. Shit. I need to focus._

Ciel fills in five questions and his eyes are drawn back to Sebastian, as if by some magnetic compulsion. He’s tucking his hair behind his ear again, _You’re not sexy; stop doing that,_ he wishes he could tell him. _Okay, maybe your ear is kind of sexy,_ he corrects himself, tilting his head and imagining himself leaning over Sebastian where he sat, breathing hot against his ear, telling him how much of a shithead he is, then licking the shell and biting the lobe. 

Another six minutes. _Goddamnit_. Ciel flips to the next page a little aggressively, pulling the page from the staple at the corner and making the instructor _tut tut_ from his desk. 

_Earth’s average annual temperature has increased by about 0.5 degrees Celsius over the last century. This warming is primarily the result of…_ Sebastian Michaelis, sucking on his bottom lip as he’s concentrating on which stupid little circle to fill in on his answer sheet. Ciel squints and he’s pretty sure he can make out the colour changing on his lip as the pressure is added and relieved every time Sebastian bites down. 

Douchecanoe changes it up after a few minutes and starts licking his lips instead, his tongue swiping the bottom one first, then he yawns, like it’s _boring_ to take an exam that determines your life. God, his mouth opens obscenely wide, and that with his lips and tongue, Ciel bets Sebastian can give the best blow job. Maybe he should be a whore instead of a lawyer. 

Ciel looks up at the clock hanging in front of the class. Twenty fucking minutes have gone by since he started fantasizing about walking up to Sebastian’s desk, climbing on top, settling on his knees to drop his pants and take his dick out to see if he’s right. And he is. Sebastian doesn’t hesitate, gets right down to business and takes him in his mouth immediately, lets him get harder, bigger in his wet heat until his head pulls back so he can look at Ciel’s cock proper. He’s got it by the base, examines it all around, from the top and the sides. So maybe he’s not as uncultured as Ciel thought, Sebastian clearly admires beauty; and Ciel’s seen enough dick to know his own is a work of art --- it’s pink and pretty, with a soft, roundish head. He tastes good too; he’s been told plenty. Sebastian seems to agree because the way he shoves Ciel’s cock back into his mouth and sucks him off noisily, gluttonously, uncaring of their audience, shows that he’s eager to know what his cum tastes like too. Maybe Ciel’ll be generous and come on his tongue a bit, then pull out and come on his face so it cools -- that way Sebastian will get to taste it both ways. 

“You have an hour and fifteen minutes left.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _Stupid jerk, stop distracting me,_ Ciel curses internally and the only way he can convince himself to not look at Sebastian is to cut a deal with himself. He can glance _that way_ once he finishes five questions. 

He manages two. 

Just over an hour has gone by and Ciel hasn’t even finished the third page. People are starting to show signs of restlessness, the pencil scratching is louder, the sighs are getting audible, chairs are being dragged against the linoleum with every movement in them. Sebastian’s arching his back as he stretches. His hands come up the back of his head and Ciel can tell he’s pulling his hair at his roots. _You like that?_ he wonders, _Someone pulling your hair?_ He’d gladly do it for him. Suddenly he’s not hating Sebastian _as much_ , he’s still annoyed though; has enough petty ire to want to hurt him a bit and replace that smug grin he’s known for with a grimace of pain as he’s fucking into him from behind, one hand fisting his hair, while the other is gripping his hip, nails biting into it. His back really arches now as he’s clutching the lip of the desk for support. He’s screaming out for _more_ , swallowing up every inch Ciel gives him, taking him in greedily, a panting, needy mess, chest brushing against the desk as he now spreads himself, and pushes back to meet each of Ciel’s thrusts. Ciel had started slow, let his thickness drag inside him, but he knew they were on a tight deadline, they both had to finish this test and do well so they could go to law school together, so Ciel could keep ogling him. He fucks him harder, faster, until the sound of his dick pumping in and out of Sebastian distracts the other test-takers. Sebastian’s not looking so perfect anymore with all those eyes on him; he looks wrecked and happy about it, and when Ciel pulls his hair back to look at his face, his eyes are rolling as a keening moan escapes his lips. Ciel’s teeth bite into Sebastian’s shoulder as he pounds him, forces him onto his toes, wraps his fingers around Sebastian’s long, leaking cock and squeezes. He’s stroking him fast, spreading the wetness along his length and he can feel it convulse and twitch. _Cockslut_ , Ciel calls him. Sebastian’s answer of _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ as he’s coming all over the desk in front of him only pushes him over the edge too and he’s filling him up, spurt after torturous spurt, grunting as he’s pulling him flush against his pelvis. It’s not enough to keep the cum from seeping out of Sebastian’s hole and running down his own length. 

“Thirty minutes left.” 

A collective groan echoed in the stuffy classroom, but none probably as plaintive as Ciel’s as he pushed the heel of his hand against his throbbing cock to try to get it to settle down. He still had three-quarters of this damned test to do and there was no way he was going to do it in thirty minutes. 

Once his hard on had sufficiently died down, he untucks his shirt to hide the significant wet spot on his tented, tanned pants, gets up and gives the instructor his unfinished exam. He storms out of class, and out the building, hand in his jacket pocket to find his keys. 

“Hey, Ciel wait!” he hears behind him. 

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck_. “What do you want Michaelis?” Ciel asks not even turning around to look at him. “Shouldn’t you be writing your exam?” 

“And lose out on an opportunity to get your number? I can just take the next practice exam,” Sebastian tells him, holding his arm to prevent the shorter of the two men from his continued descent down the front steps of the building. 

“You never seemed interested before,” Ciel answered cooly, finally turning around. 

“I didn’t know you made such pretty sounds. I went through the whole exam and no way there was anything remotely interesting enough for you to get so worked up, so I’d like to find out for myself where they came from.” 

S-sounds? What fucking sounds? His face falls a little, grows hot and bright when he realizes, whereas Sebastian’s infamous smirk returns to his lips. Ciel finds he can't hate it anymore. “Screw the number, what are you doing for lunch,” he asks looking at his phone for the time, “in like ten minutes from now?” 

“You.”


End file.
